The Love Goddess Blog

Dating Hell: The Separated Man (part 2)

    Another thing to think about re: the Separated Man (you should know by now that I rarely blog only once on a subject!): He may well want back into the marriage he's separated from.  In fact, he most likely DOES want back in, given statistics on the subject. (More women than men leave marriages; if his wife left him, he may be hoping she'll have him back--which is information he may not share with a woman he's dating while he's separated.)  Even if he says he wants to be rid of his wife, or claims that the marriage is over, it's a stubborn, durable bond (it may break easily, but not break UP easily). Men are often very happy in their marriages, despite their complaints--and suffer profoundly outside it.

     Which is simply to say that you, as the one dating this suffering man, are likely to get the very short end of the stick.

     "But he HATES her," you say. Yes, well, hate is as passionate as love, sometimes, and keeps this man as emotionally involved with his wife as he once was when he loved her. As one separated wife told me, "He calls me every day to yell about something. He writes letters accusing me of something else. He speaks to my parents, rails at my friends. If he'd been this involved when we were together, maybe we still would be."

      And if he truly doesn't want back in? Then he's grieving. Which means he feels like a failure, or a heel, or a victim. And he hasn't processed any of it. So you are in the middle of some guy's anger, denial, bitterness, and so forth.

      Oh, and separated people haven't worked anything out--like child custody arrangements. Financial arrangements. Permanent living arrangements. What fun to be in the center of those!

      Look, I'm sorry to be sarcastic, but a lovesick woman in the middle of two people fighting over custody, childcare, daycare, children' s affection, and money….well, romantic it ain't. His world--with lawyers, accountants and in-laws screaming at each other--is a galaxy away from your world. If you enter it, you enter Hell. If you don't, you stare at each other in mutual incomprehension, wondering what the other is thinking. One thing is sure: With all that on his plate, he's not thinking about you. 

     So if only one in a hundred "I dated a divorced man and we're still dating" stories comes my way, I'd say one in five thousand "I dated a separated man and now we're still dating," does.

     Do the math. And then, when a separated guy asks you out, say "Sure--call me a year after you're actually divorced" and  be on your way--and make this Love Goddess happy.

 

TLG

On Separated Men and Transitional Women

     This Goddess does not talk about Love in the same sentence as separated men. Not that I have anything against separated men outside the context of Love--after all, people separate before they get divorced. What I have against them IN the context of Love is that if they're not divorced yet, they're not remotely ready to be in a new relationship. 

     So when  woman says to me, "No, you're wrong, he's left her, and he lives separately, and he no longer loves her," I simply say, "Talk to me about him once they've actually divorced."

     Why am I so hard-nosed about this? Because I'm The Love Goddess. I don't like my girls to get hurt. And a man who is getting a divorce is right up there with the married man, in the annals of heartbreak tales (of which I've heard maybe twenty thousand)....for, like the married man, he IS a married man.  

     Worse, because you have convinced yourself otherwise, and believe that he's actually available ("They're living separately!" you promise me), you don't even have the emotional defenses up that you'd have if he were just the run-of-the-mill married guy--defenses that you'd use (albeit unsuccessfully) to warn against getting serious. You are simply what's known in the trade as The Transitional Woman. And the Transitional Woman (the TW), statistically speaking, does little else than provide sustenance to a man who, once he gets through the mess of his divorce (or returns to his mess of a marriage), says "Thank you very much," and moves on to someone new. That is a fact. The woman having an affair with a separated man is statistically unlikely to be his next wife, or even his next serious girlfriend. Why? Because she came into his life too early. He wasn't ready to love again. And the readiness, you remember, is all.

     In a random interview with several men who even remember their Transitional Women, few have anything truly fond, or even grateful, to say. Most remember only the muddle. Some feel the pang of guilt ("Good Lord, what I must have put her through,") and others, a kind of self-forgiving regret ("I had no business seeing someone at that point…but I needed support"). But the ones that stand out for me are those who spent months with their TW, getting nursed through the pain of separation, and can barely remember her. "She was incredibly kind to me, I do remember that. And she had red hair, I think. Nice tea she gave me: chamomile, I think. I remember lying on her couch for hours, while she fed me, not knowing what to do next."  But here's the clincher: I asked hm, "What did you do when you felt good again?"

    "Well,  I was in a whole different place.  I was looking for a good time."

     "And what was the problem, for her, with a good time?"

     "She seemed so troubled."

     "Could it be because she had been through the wringer with YOU?"

      "Yup. Could be. But still. I mean,  I didn't owe her anything. Or maybe I did, but that didn't mean I was obligated to continue seeing her."

     

      Get the picture?   

 

       Heed my words, my dear girls!

         

           -- The Love Goddess

Does He Want to Know You--or Snow You?: When Your Profile Gets Ignored

As much attention as I've paid to what you should say in your profile,  women have been telling me recently that some men pay no attention at all, anyway. "They like my picture and that's as far as they looked," one  woman tells me. "I might as well have written the rest in Greek for all the attention my words got." Now that (looking at the picture) could be just, well, a guy thing. But I don't think so. You wrote your profile for a reason, one of which is to suggest who you are and what you're looking for in a companion, even if it's a temporary one. So if, from the moment you begin exchanging e-mails, these wishes are ignored outright, that's a big red flag. And if your words just manage to get subsumed into a guy's lengthy discussion of himself, with no time for your own contribution, I have bad news: he may be totally adorable, but he's very obviously not, as the book put it, into you.

Be warned.

Be especially alert to a talkative (online) person who claims he wants a soulmate, but seems to want to talk at you. A soulmate is interested in connecting.  If a man (or woman) is clearly more interested in snowing than knowing you, remember: Nonstop, one-way talk--particularly about things that may not interest you one bit--suggests not a  potential relationship (an interaction, after all), but something more one-way. Like a lecture. Or a diatribe. And unless you want to do little else but listen, get it straight right away. Make sure, too, that if you decide you want to meet him,  he also wants to meet you. I mean, in person. On your timetable. You didn't go online for a pen pal.  

A person who reveals himself to be a solo act might be a delightful one-man-show, but once you no longer feel like applauding, will eat up most of your time and energy and leave you not with a new boyfriend, or even a nice dinner companion, but alone and with a computer-generated headache. Oh, and another thing: Are you exhausted just dealing with him online? Then imagine what it would be like later on. And ladies, never, ever,read your own exhaustion as some deficiency in yourself—something you should learn to overcome in the name of  not being alone and in order to have a relationship. No. It takes nurturance and care to have a relationship, but it shouldn't deplete you.  Because the nurturance and care should be a two-way thing. And if it makes you feel really REALLY tired, consider that it is not at all what you want. A relationship goes somewhere; it doesn't make you want to take a nap. It feels hopeful, not enervating. If it feels like something you can't do rather easily, once again, I urge you, press DELETE. Being alone is a far, far better thing than being with someone who makes you feel lonely. That's the worst.

TLG

                            

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Dating Again (gasp!), part 2

         

I've talked about (and will no doubt talk MORE about after today) the two parts of a profile--the self-presentation (the sales pitch) and the request (whom you'd like to meet). The two parts should have the same feel and tone, since you're telling a story about you and the kind of people you like. Like a story, your profile should convey something deeper, quirkier, about you than many words allow. This is why overkill ("gorgeous, sexy, body that won't quit) on your part (and "six-pack abs") on his part sound so hollow, describing as they do anyone of any age and size and sensibility who happens to be a gym rat. A way to get closer to character is to pretend you're not you but a good friend of yours, hoping to fix you up with a lovely man, and groping to describe the depth and delight of you. So maybe, "Curvy and petite, studied jazz piano in hopes of sounding like Herbie Hancock." Or, "Gave up dancing but still have a dancer's legs." Or "Just discovered that Bekka Bramlett sounds exactly like her mother, Bonnie, who is my favorite rock singer." Someone out there will  say, "I was at the Shrine Auditorium when Delaney and Bonnie played with Eric Clapton." (If he does, will you call me?)  

       Question and edit each word and phrase. Remove all the usual suspects, like "seeking a mate." You're not. And if, secretly, you are, keep it to yourself. (Who thinks of himself as a "mate," anyway, and who wants to think of this as a merger rather than a mere potential shared bottle of merlot?) Ditto for "lively," and "perky" and "fun" about you and "handsome," and "likes music" and "sensitive" about him--again, generic ideas that describe no one (imagine a novelist building a character that way!). And no knee-jerk earnestness. No "soulful woman" with "passionate nature" here. If it's a kind of cool guy who knows his way around

New York

and listens to Nora Jones that you want, say so with some oomph.  "You've been known to Lindy to Wes Montgomery." "You liked the Russian Tea Room before it was redone." Or, "You miss Bradley's."

           I know I'm hammering on this, but it's worth it: You may think you want a rich, successful guy but you'll never meet him by icily announcing, "Crave master of the universe who lives in Greenwich, got out of the market early, and looks like Clint Eastwood"-- but you might by suggesting that you appreciate certain inclinations in such a man. "You take pride, secretly, because it took some doing, in the details of all that you do and have done-- from your appearance to your work life to your family life."  It's not his success per se you're interested in and appealing to; it's how he defines it, and how he feels about it.

           Finally, remember once again that you're speaking in code, not cliches. Did you mention rainy summer nights or moonlight walks? Did you use words like "caring" and "loving" and "special"?  How many EST dropouts and out-of-favor gurus (who by the way have a virtual lineup of caring, loving and special women in their yoga classes) do you want to meet? If you MUST talk about walking in the rain because you truly love to, then try, "Must own cute raincoat: will be using it a lot."

              A guy who writes back, "It's a Burberry, I think, but it's old," gets the walking-in-the-rain thing.           

 

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DATING AGAIN AFTER ALL THESE YEARS? The (gasp!) online profile problem

 

         For every woman who has had success meeting someone lovely online, dozens don't--not because the men are so treacherous out there, but because, sometimes, online "meeting" requires wildly different skills from meeting someone at, say, a dinner party--and the advertising process simply fizzles. Sexy as online copy pretends to be, dating sites are inherently a rough environment for grown women not used to blaring out information about themselves to people they haven't met. So, as if following orders they don't want to follow, many women create profiles in the tone of a would-be  beauty queen presenting themselves in front of a panel of judges; or, worse, trying to prove their value ("Fit, thin, interested in life, loves active sports….") in a marketplace that seems only to value models and teen vocalists.  The best profiles, to my mind, are subtle and vaguely private, even withholding. Like the best short stories, they stick to the structure asked for (Self-Presentation and Request) but then depart from the form in order to convey a real voice. Your voice.

      You're asking publicly for something very private, someone to spend time with, and the point isn't to sell yourself (really: don't spend much time on the Self-Presentation part; you can get stuck there, as though you're a well-cared-for but used Cuisinart looking for a buyer. You wouldn't reveal at a dinner party that you have four children and a law degree and two former husbands and that at age 50 you're toned and also have traveled around the world and love to read--would you? All at once?  Who would ask that much? Who would care? ). No, the point is to locate IN yourself something you may not even  have articulated: What you want. Not whether a man is this age or that weight. What you like in a guy's being, his character; what would attract you if you were meeting him tonight. Is he quiet or outgoing? Is he laidback or type A? (You can be quiet and type A; outgoing and laidback.) Only you know which you like, and only your voice has a unique,  gentle, idiosyncratic way of framing it.

     My point is this: You're the one looking. You're the one paying for the profile. And so you're the one who has to state what you want--but you must do it in code. A code that will be deciphered only by the kind of man you want to meet (and not legions of men: again, let go of the desire to please, and the need to appeal to everyone;you're not trying to be popular here).

       Understatement, then. And specificity. Ditch all the great generalities--"Attractive," "considerate," "fun" and "likes Chinese food," and so forth describe everybody I know, but nobody I would use those words to describe. That's why this is so hard: You have to home in: "Has a secret yen for Peking duck." "I have full lips, good hips and like dancing the two-step." Subtle, sensual, specific, idiosyncratic. "Would like a guy who thinks The Leopard is one of the great books (but maybe didn't like the movie), who has nice hands, and who checks out the Huffington Post now and then." There: better than "who reads, goes to movies, and is politically involved." And "nice hands" can mean a lot of things, but it conveys something about an asthetic that many men will understand. Go for what you notice; what pleases you; and the kinds of things you'd click over if you met over coffee. You won't click with every guy, but someone out there, maybe two or three someones, will light up and say, yeah, that's me."

        It's well worth the time.

        We'll talk more about "dating again" next time.

       TLG

 

Putting The "Spark" Back in a Relationship....part 2

We're talking once again about the old saw that couples must keep the "spark" in relationships. In fact, the idea of infusing "spark" into a relationship only makes me celestially anxious. It's as if we're supposed to reinvent a comfortable relationship into one that has an "edge"--or one, rather, that once had us on edge. It's a no-win proposition: You can't unknow someone. Oh, and watch gender differences click in when you ask people how they think they should put the spark back. Ask a man, and he'll think immediately of Ciala commercials. Or jewelry. As if thirty-six hours and a new bracelet are spark and not plain endurance.  

    Asking a woman to inject spark into her relationship makes her think face lift. And then thong. Why? Because your culture equates "spark" with newness, youth, beginnings, which makes us reflexively believe that any other kind of woman (besides a young one) is sexual dud, doomed to put out, not start, fires. A woman who is not in a new relationship and hence is not "new" herself, starts to worry about she appears; as if changing her appearance (and her underthings) will change the dynamic between her lover (who is also not new, by the way) and herself.

          Jewelry and thongs, face lifts and Cialis, are all fine--but they have little to do with correcting the "boredom" we hear about in relationships. The idea of asking couples to please each other with these generic tools, well, they feel like odd, loose ends; unconnected pieces of a huge puzzle. If they're elements in a decision to talk more, have more fun together, play more--even a movie and a pizza would do for me, if I lived down there--then reinjecting "spark" doesn't sound so impossible, so sadly undo-able. Because "spark," my friends, is sex--right? And what is sex if not adult play?

         TLG      

 

Where The Spark Has Gone, part 1

 

               Yesterday I heard it again:  someone speaking about her marriage as "boring." My first instinct when I hear this about marriage and boredom  is always to wonder if the couple has stopped talking. For I've long found that when talk goes, sex often follows. (Sex is, after all, a conversational connection, using bodies and voice.") So while magazines still talk about putting the "spark" back into marriage as though lacy thongs will do the trick, I still talk about where the "spark" first left. The talk. When Joan Didion said that the essence of her very alive and successful marriage was conversation, I thought, yeah, that's the thong that no lace can create.  

              We're grownups, so we know that familiarity can have its way with spark, but not until that familiarity erodes the daily conversation does it really put out the fire. Not till you realize that the three things you've said in a day are: "What time will you be home? Will you pick up dinner? And Is someone around here going to do the laundry, ever?" before the tv goes on at night, you realize you're gone; you've vanished; the content of conversation has become an exchange that either of you might have had with a new secretary.  

            Not that we don't try to keep talk alive. Generally speaking, though, women raise more topics of conversation with men than the reverse. Scholars have long studied this imbalance--and one, Pamela Fishman, pointed out that women "raise many more topics than men because so many of their topical attempts fail." This failure is not due to the content--which "is often indistinguishable from men's" but "due to the failure of men to respond, to work at turning the attempt into a developing conversation." She goes on to say that women use a variety of strategies to get men to listen--asking questions, for example, is the famous one, to force some kind of response--that men rarely have to use. Why don't they have to use it? Because women are so much more likely to want to engage in the first place, men needn't resort to devices. They just need to want to talk.

        So it's no coincidence, if we follow this thread, to hear that married women are the most depressed population, and married men the least depressed. It's odd, when you think about it, since these happiness and depression figures refer to people who exist in the same marriages. It cannot all be problems with roles, this huge discrepancy in marital depression between men and women; because more and more couples are sharing roles that used to be divvied up. And yet the discrepancy remains. No, I believe it has to do with what happens over time to conversation.

       We'll talk more about it next time!

        Speak out, my darlings! Talk to each other!

         TLG